


Forces to Reckon With

by nonebutyou



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 11:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19973623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonebutyou/pseuds/nonebutyou
Summary: Some universes are kinder than others.(Five times Harry lives.)





	Forces to Reckon With

;-;

**one // all our ducks in a row**

Harry is laying the last of the silverware onto the table he’s setting when a group of new customers come into The Hutch. The oldest of them, a blonde woman, smiles at him when he greets them.

‘Table for four, please,’ she says. ‘If you could give us one with a little privacy, that would be wonderful.’

Her gaze slides over to the man on her right, whose expression immediately strikes Harry as being a little... off. There’s an almost feverish delight in his eyes, like happiness is eating him alive. Harry is so intrigued by it that he almost forgets he has a job to do until another member of the group, a teenage girl, clears her throat and makes him feel like an idiot with just a lift of an eyebrow.

A little flustered, Harry leads them to a table in the corner, currently clear of any neighbouring diners, and waits for them to settle into their seats before he introduces himself and rattles off the specials.

‘Is Tony not here today?’ the blonde woman asks. ‘I thought he practically lived in this place.’

‘Oh, he has a meeting with a supplier this afternoon,’ Harry replies, furrowing his brow. He’s never seen this lot before in the village, but the woman seems familiar with his dad. ‘Sorry— are you two friends? It sounds like you know him pretty well.’

It’s the man who answers. ‘We’ve had the... pleasure of dining here several times already.’

Even though it’s at his dad’s expense, Harry can’t help marvelling at the way the man adds another subtle layer of insult with each word and delicate pause.

‘I’m Marnie,’ the blonde woman says. ‘This is my son, James; my grandson, Romeo; and my granddaughter, Juliet. We’re in town for a funeral. My ex-husband’s funeral, to be precise.’

‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Harry says automatically, before the words register and he realises he does know who they are. His dad had mentioned that more of Mac Nightingale’s family had arrived for his funeral later in the week.

‘Well, it’s not much of one, to be honest,’ James says blithely. He ignores his mother’s glare and smiles at Harry. His wild expression has faded, leaving behind something oddly fragile. ‘In fact, I think I’d like a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Who knew picking out a coffin could be so much fun?’

‘ _Dad_ ,’ Romeo whispers with an awkward glance at Harry.

‘And I’ll give the salmon a try today,’ James continues. He sets his menu down and motions impatiently at his family. ‘Well? Hurry up and order! We can’t keep Harry here waiting all day.’

Harry takes their orders and gladly goes to drop them off at the kitchen. He doesn’t know what’s going on in this little subsection of the Nightingale family, but he watches, fascinated, as they alternate between eating in silence and sniping at each other. James, despite what he’d said, does not touch the champagne.

By the time Harry flips the “open” sign over, closing the restaurant for a few hours before dinner service, James is the only customer left. His mother had disappeared with Juliet almost as soon as they finished and Romeo had followed not long after, though he’d seemed reluctant to go.

‘I’ll be out of your hair in a minute,’ James says without looking up, his voice carrying in the silent restaurant.

Harry exchanges a look with Scott, who nods and ducks out from behind the bar, leaving Harry alone with James.

‘It’s fine,’ Harry tells him. ‘Take your time.’

James gives him a half-smile. ‘I won’t. I’m sure you want to get out of here as soon as possible, and I can mope just as well elsewhere.’

That surprises a laugh out of Harry. ‘I don’t mind. My dad owns this place and he’d probably tell me it’s bad service to kick a customer out when he’s feeling down.’

‘You’re Tony’s son?’ James stares at him; Harry thinks the intensity of that gaze has probably sent more than one person fleeing before. ‘I... really can’t see any resemblance between you.’

‘Yeah? Some people reckon I have his nose.’

James rests his elbows on the table and tilts his head contemplatively. ‘Possibly. But it looks better on you.’

Harry is horrified to feel himself blushing. He’s not exactly inexperienced, but he’s never had an attractive older man use a line like that on him. It’s flattering, and sort of charming.

‘Come and sit for a while, if you aren’t kicking me out yet,’ James suggests, looking amused. ‘I’d like the company.’

Harry hesitates, but he thinks he was a goner the moment he’d found himself caught by the wildness in James’ eyes. He wants to know the stories behind them.

‘Just for a while,’ he repeats.

He doesn’t get to learn as much as he’d like about James that afternoon, but after the funeral, the Nightingales decide to stay and he gets James’ smiles and James’ laughter, and all the time in the world for everything else.

;-;

 **two //** **turn** **left**

Harry’s phone is silent. That’s the worst part. If anyone knows he’s left Hollyoaks, none of them seem to care. Ste— well, Harry doesn’t expect to hear from him, not after everything, but there hasn’t been so much as a text from his dad. Or James.

‘Are you okay?’

Harry tries to find a smile for Sadie, but it must be a poor attempt because she comes in and sits down next to him, knocking her shoulder sympathetically against his.

‘Nothing from your dad?’ she asks, glancing at the phone he’s clutching like a lifeline.

‘Nope. But it was stupid of me to hope for anything from him.’ Harry laughs bitterly. ‘He probably wouldn’t even care if I turned up dead.’

‘I don’t think that’s true,’ Sadie says. ‘He’d probably chip in for your funeral, at least.’

Harry laughs, more genuinely this time. He and Sadie have been friends long enough that she’s heard plenty of stories about his dad. She doesn’t think much of him.

‘It just really sucks to keep being reminded that my dad doesn’t give a shit about me, you know? I mean, we didn’t have a great start, but I thought it was getting better. I thought... I don’t know.’ Harry rubs his hands over his face, fighting back a sudden sting of tears. ‘I’m an idiot.’

‘You’re not an idiot,’ Sadie says firmly. She pries his hands away and flicks him on the forehead, grinning when he yelps. ‘Parents are supposed to stick with you through thick and thin unless you end up being an axe murderer or something. Your dad shouldn’t be taking sides even if he _is_ in love with that guy Ste.’

‘God, Sadie, that’s disgusting. I don’t even want to joke about my dad with Ste.’

‘You know it’s true.’ Sadie nudges him again. ‘What are you going to do? Do you think you’ll end up going back?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe, but... not yet.’

‘That’s cool. Mum and Dad don’t mind you staying and I love having you here! It feels like old times.’

‘Thanks, Sadie.’ Harry turns his head to look at her. ‘I’m really glad I have you on my side.’

Sadie smiles, a sweet, shy gesture. They stare at each other, and Harry senses it the moment something shifts between them. He thinks Sadie is the one who leans in, but he kisses her back without hesitation, letting the physical sensations clear his mind of all the hurt and misery, and he doesn’t stop until he feels her hands undoing his jeans. It’s like a splash of cold water to his face.

‘Wait, stop,’ he gasps, catching her hands and scrambling backwards on the bed. ‘What am I doing? I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I can’t... I’m gay and you’re— you’re my friend. My friend who’s a _girl_.’

Sadie shakes her head, looking as stunned as Harry feels. ‘I don’t know what just happened. Harry, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I kissed you! I can’t believe we were just about to have sex!’

There’s horrified silence for a long minute until Sadie’s lips twitch and she cracks up. It’s infectious, and Harry can barely speak for laughing.

‘God, that would have been really bad,’ Sadie finally says. ‘I’d be the girl who slept with her gay ex-boyfriend.’

‘I’d be the guy who got married to a man, left him for another man, then slept with his ex-girlfriend.’

‘That makes me feel a bit better.’

‘Glad I can help.’

Sadie laughs. ‘So is this one of the things we pretend never happened or one of the things we can joke about?’

‘Uh...’ Harry winces. ‘Let’s go with the first one for now.’

‘Agreed. I’m going to start right now.’ Sadie bounces off the bed, standing over Harry with an exaggerated smile. ‘That was a good talk we had, Harry, with nothing awkward happening at all! I’ll see you around. Please don’t stare at your phone all day, okay?’

Harry smiles. ‘I promise I won’t.’

When she leaves, he lets out a shaky breath. He’d almost made a huge mistake. Again. He has to get it together.

The screen of his phone is still dark. Harry swipes it up and drops it into the drawer of the bedside table.

-

Nine months later, Harry wakes to the rustle of a newspaper. He opens one eye sleepily, just enough to see the clock and then James.

‘It’s so early,’ he murmurs. ‘Why are you up already?’

‘Mother burst in with this.’ James shakes the paper excitedly. ‘Breda McQueen was charged with multiple counts of murder last night!’

That has Harry wide awake. ‘What? Who did she kill?’

‘No one knows yet, but she apparently has an old pig farm where she’s been keeping dead bodies!’

‘You ghoul,’ Harry says accusingly, trying not to laugh. It’s awful news; he shouldn’t be finding James’ enthusiasm funny. ‘Stop reading that and go back to sleep.’

‘No, I want to find out more. Do you think she was plotting something when she offered us that holiday?’

Harry tugs the paper out of James’ hands, tosses it across the room, and wrestles him down onto the bed. A leg thrown over his waist traps him very effectively.

‘Go. To. Sleep,’ Harry insists.

James doesn’t say a word, but Harry can practically hear him thinking. Harry closes his eyes and tries to empty his mind enough to fall back asleep.

It is weird, though. He wonders what Breda was up to.

Harry shivers and cuddles up closer to James. It’s a good thing she’s locked up now. At least she can’t hurt anyone else.

;-;

 **three //** **not** **with** **a** **whimper**

Harry staggers against the wall just beside the door to the flat. It hits him all at once, the betrayal cutting like a knife and leaving him gasping for air. James had drugged him and cost him his chance at clearing his name. James thinks he’s untrustworthy, incapable of love. James thinks he’s _defiled_.

That memory, more than anything, is what encourages the spark of anger buried in his grief to grow into a burning fury. Harry has made mistakes, but he doesn’t deserve so much cruelty, especially from someone who’s made just as many mistakes as Harry has.

He forcefully wipes his face and storms back into the flat. James isn’t in the main living space, but he comes back out at the sound of the door slamming. His eyes are bright with tears, but he still makes the effort to harden his expression when he sees Harry. It’s unbelievable.

‘I can’t believe _you’re_ crying when you just said all those awful things to me,’ Harry scoffs. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

‘What is it?’ James asks coldly. ‘Shouldn’t you be fleeing from the consequences of your actions by now?’

Harry is so angry he can hardly breathe.

‘You drugged me!’ he shouts. ‘I could report you to the police! Did you think about that? And don’t say no one will believe me, because I’m betting whatever you gave me is still in my system!’

James doesn’t reply.

‘Fuck you for treating me like dirt, James,’ Harry goes on furiously. ‘I’m not perfect, but neither are you, not by a long shot. I’m allowed to make mistakes without you acting like my fucking judge, jury, and executioner.’

‘Are you done?’

‘No, I’m not! I—’ Harry looks at James’ face, still blank and unemotional, and the rage that’s fuelling him abruptly gives way to a bone-deep weariness. There’s no point to this. It might be cathartic to shout his grievances out at James, but at the end of the day, the man he loves is determined to think the worst of him, and nothing can soothe that devastating fact.

‘I loved you,’ Harry says quietly. ‘I might not have been easy to love back, but don’t blame me for the choices you made because you didn’t trust me. I have always stood by you when it mattered.’

He wonders if he’s imagining the regret that flickers in James’ eyes.

‘I’m not going to run,’ Harry informs him. ‘I’m not going to abandon my son because despite what you think, I know I can be a good dad. I didn’t hurt Grace, and I’m going to prove it.’

He’s almost out of the flat when James finally speaks again.

‘Harry. Wait.’

Harry’s fingers pause on the doorknob, but he doesn’t turn around.

‘You’re right.’ James’ voice is barely audible. ‘You were there for me when I was in prison. You were the one who kept me going when my father died. I haven’t forgotten that.’

‘I’m glad you remember,’ Harry says flatly.

James falls silent, and Harry is lost all over again, like the ground has been knocked out from beneath him and he has to learn to walk on air. He doesn’t even know why he’s still here, because there’s nothing James can say that will fix the gaping holes he’s blown into their relationship.

‘I lied before,’ James confesses, even more softly. ‘I do care what happens to you.’

‘So what?’ Harry asks. ‘Do you expect me to fall into your arms and weep with gratitude because you’ve decided your heart isn’t made of stone?’

‘No. No, I don’t expect anything like that. But I can help with proving your innocence.’

Harry turns, meeting James’ gaze. ‘How do I know you won’t sabotage me again the next chance you get?’

James lets out a huff of air that’s almost a laugh. ‘I deserved that.’

‘Yeah, you did. So tell me how I can trust you.’

‘I can’t,’ James says. ‘I don’t know that you can ever trust me again.’

It’s not an apology or an excuse. It’s James admitting he did something wrong, even if he doesn’t lay it out as frankly as that.

It doesn’t fix anything, but it’s enough for now, for the chance at clearing his name and being a father to his son.

Harry stays.

;-;

 **four //** **chance** **would** **be** **a** **fine** **thing**

It hurts. It really fucking hurts. He’d always thought it would be hard, stabbing someone— not the physical act, but the mental... obstacles. Barriers. But Breda had done it like she was sticking a skewer into a cake to test if it was cooked. He wonders if she’s practised it, stabbing things. Stabbing people. How many people has she stabbed? What number is he?

There’s a loud noise. It sounds like a dog barking or a girl shrieking. It’s annoying. Can’t they see he wants to sleep?

It hurts, but then it’s warm, and Harry drifts off with a sigh.

-

Harry wakes up to pain in his chest and James asleep in a chair. It looks uncomfortable; James is sitting sideways, his cheek pressed stiffly to a corner of the backrest. He’s going to be sore, Harry thinks. He watches James for a while as he re-orientates himself.

A nurse comes in, and the commotion that follows makes James jerk up, a thin blanket sliding off his lap to lie forgotten on the floor.

‘Harry,’ he breathes, but he doesn’t move any closer, even though Harry wants him to. ‘God. _Harry_.’

He’s ushered out before he can say or do anything else, and Harry is faced with a steady stream of doctors and nurses who examine him and ask him questions and bring the pain down to a tolerable level. He’s feeling a little better by the time his dad arrives with Diane, both of them in tears.

Harry waits for him, but James doesn’t come back.

-

Marnie descends on him in a cloud of perfume, pressing a kiss to each of his cheeks. Romeo is more subdued, leaning down to give him a quick hug across the shoulders. Juliet stands at the foot of his bed and waves. Harry waves back.

‘It’s so good to see you again,’ Marnie says, getting teary before she’s even sat down. ‘We genuinely thought there was a chance you wouldn’t ever wake up.’

Harry fumbles for the box of tissues on his bedside table; he’s gotten used to people crying over him. He doesn’t think he’d ever say it aloud, but it’s kind of nice, seeing proof that they care. It’s easy to forget, sometimes.

‘James knew he would,’ Juliet comments. She perches gingerly on the bed, twisting to keep Harry in her line of sight. ‘That’s why he stayed here every day, so that you wouldn’t be alone when you did.’

Harry’s heart aches. ‘Then why hasn’t he come to see me? Is it easier being around me when I’m in a coma?’

‘Well, yeah.’ Juliet frowns at him like he’s completely dense. ‘If you’re not awake, he doesn’t have to deal with the horrible things he did to you.’

‘That’s not it,’ Romeo interrupts, glaring at his sister. ‘It’s not like that at all. Harry, Dad doesn’t think you’d want to see him because of what he did. That’s why he’s stayed away.’

Harry is quiet for a moment. ‘You all know what happened?’

‘Yes,’ Marnie says unhappily. ‘And it’s well within your rights not to forgive him for any of it. It was inexcusable, all of it.’

Juliet nods, but Romeo looks torn, and it’s obvious he’s struggling with wanting to defend his father against the indefensible. Harry doesn’t resent him for it; he knows it’s the hardest thing in the world to turn against a parent.

‘I don’t know whether I can forgive him, but I want to see him,’ Harry says. ‘Tell him to come.’

-

James comes half an hour before visiting hours end. It’s clearly a strategic move, and Harry almost laughs. To love James is to understand that his mind will never stop working, that all his brilliance can produce as much bad as it does good.

There’s a moment, when James is standing in the doorway as uncertain as Harry has ever seen him, where Harry thinks about ending it for good. He wonders what it would be like to cut James out of his life forever— no hope of mending their relationship, no friendship, not even the possibility of being the kind of acquaintances who stop to say hello to each other. To chase James out as cruelly as James had chased him away.

But then James’ face crumples and Harry knows it could never happen. He and James are too intertwined for that. For better or worse, Harry will always love him.

‘I’m sorry,’ James says. The dark circles under his eyes tell of many sleepless nights. ‘Harry, I am so very, very sorry.’

Harry has no idea what will happen next, but life is so unpredictable. There could be another serial killer waiting around the corner with a hit list made up of blue-eyed men. Harry knows now he has to take what he wants while he has the chance.

And right now, he just wants to hold James for a little while.

‘Okay,’ he says softly. ‘Come here.’

James trembles in his arms. He’s warm, solid. He doesn’t represent safety and stability, not anymore, but it’s a start.

;-;

 **and** **five //** **the** **spotlight** **fades**

James doesn’t ask after Harry. Harry knows this because Marnie tells him so, five months after the breakup when the raw grief has worn away into a mild tenderness, something to be poked and prodded at when he misses James most.

‘I’m sorry, darling,’ Marnie says gently. ‘I think he feels it’s easier, in a way, to avoid talking about you entirely.’

Harry smiles faintly and looks down at his half-finished pasta, beginning to cool into unappetising chunks. ‘No, I get it. I know James.’

‘Yes, you do.’ Marnie rests her chin on her palm as she scrutinises him. ‘There are times when I wish you didn’t. It would hurt you less if you could simply write him off as nothing more than another ex-boyfriend best forgotten.’

‘I’d need a lot more exes to forget James,’ Harry tells her, a simple statement of fact that makes her eyes soften.

‘Even after everything he did,’ she sighs. It’s not a question, but Harry shrugs anyway.

‘Well, let’s not think about any of that. We need to start getting some more food into you,’ Marnie says. She wrinkles her nose at his pasta, pushing a platter of bruschetta towards him before tipping the last of the wine into his glass. ‘It’s important to keep your strength up when you have a child to look after.’

‘And what’s the wine for?’

‘Your mental health,’ Marnie replies, completely serious, and Harry laughs.

-

The truth is, Harry doesn’t even have the time to find any more potential exes, not when he juggles work with classes with being a parent. He’s tired all the time, like any energy he gains from sleep is drained from him the second he wakes, but the exhaustion is nothing when he has Isaac in his arms, quiet and trusting. He won’t ever forget that he’d almost lost his chance to raise his son; he’d been given a miracle when he got Mercedes’ confession about the hit-and-run.

Two days after his conversation with Marnie, he’s watching Isaac sleep when there’s a soft knock at the door. He tenses, but Isaac doesn’t so much as twitch.

Romeo eyes him strangely when he opens the door. ‘Why are you smiling like that?’

‘Because I just got Isaac down and he didn’t wake up when you knocked,’ Harry explains, grinning even more widely. ‘Do you know how amazing that is?’

‘No, but looking at you, it must be better than winning the lotto.’

Romeo trails into the house after him, clutching what looks like a professionally wrapped present. It makes a dull thump when Romeo puts it down and goes to peek at Isaac.

‘What’s this?’ Harry asks, flicking the navy ribbon trailing from the present.

‘Something for Isaac.’

‘Why?’

‘Because when people have babies, you’re supposed to give them presents?’

‘Are you asking me or telling me?’

Romeo frowns. ‘Telling?’

It feels suspicious. Harry glances between the very nicely wrapped gift on the table and the shifty-eyed teenager hovering at his side.

‘Right...’ Harry drags the word out with just a hint of disbelief and notes the way Romeo fidgets. ‘Well, thanks, mate. It’s really nice of you.’

‘No problem! I’ll just go and let you... uh, let you look after the baby.’

He practically bolts out, though he takes care to shut the door gently. Harry checks on Isaac again before studying the present. He thinks it’s a book, but all the books people have given him have either been little ones made of board, ready for Isaac’s clumsy fingers, or thin picture books that Harry reads aloud. This one is much bigger.

Harry undoes the knot of ribbon and carefully tears opens the wrapping paper. It is a book. It’s a hardcover, illustrated copy of _The_ _Complete_ _Grimm’s_ _Fairy_ _Tales_. Harry pages through it slowly.

Then he puts his head down and muffles his laughter in his arms.

-

Romeo doesn’t come by again, but someone starts leaving presents on the doorstep for Harry. He gets a gift card good for at least a month’s worth of coffee at his favourite cafe, a thick wool scarf, a set of bath soaks that promise to soothe, relax, and enhance sleep. There’s something useful every day, tucked into discreet paper bags and addressed to him.

By the time he meets Marnie again for lunch, his dad cooing over Isaac at home, Harry has a box in his cupboard full of presents he can’t quite bring himself to use yet.

‘Everything alright, darling?’ Marnie asks when the waiter drops by for the second time and he still hasn’t made his mind up about what to order.

‘Yeah, of course.’ Harry tries to focus on the menu. ‘Why?’

‘You seem distracted.’

Nothing gets past Marnie anymore when it comes to Harry. He shrugs.

‘Someone’s been leaving me... things.’

‘What kind of things? Dangerous things? Obscene things?’

‘Obscene...? No!’ Harry stares at her. ‘What are you even thinking about, Marnie?’

‘It’s not completely implausible! This village seems to attract all sorts of... miscreants.’

‘Well, that’s not what’s happening here,’ Harry assures her. ‘I’ve been getting nice things. Really nice things, actually.’

Marnie leans forward, intrigued. ’Like what?’

He tells her about the presents, excluding the one Romeo brought. Even without that, he can tell by her expression— a mixture of amusement, exasperation, and wariness— that she comes to the same conclusion he has.

‘Why is he doing it?’ Harry asks. ‘He hasn’t said a word to me in months and then all this, out of the blue.’

‘I think it may be my fault,’ Marnie admits guiltily. ‘James overheard me talking to Romeo about you after our last lunch. I don’t know what he heard, precisely, but it must have been something that concerned him.’

It’s stupid, really, the way Harry’s heart pounds a little faster. It’s not like he’s planning to get involved with James again. Their relationship hadn’t ended well, to put it very mildly, and he knows there’d be a line of people waiting to inform him he’s insane if he even considers it.

But time has tempered the anguish that made up their last days together, and it’s hard to think about any of that when he has a box of tangible proof that James still cares about him.

‘Marnie,’ he says suddenly, ‘do you think James and I could ever be friends? Proper, supportive friends and nothing else?’

Marnie doesn’t rush into an answer. Harry loves her for it.

‘James has never been good at friendships, with a few exceptions. It would be especially difficult for him with you, I think.’

Harry isn’t sure what his face is doing, but Marnie reaches over to give his hand a comforting squeeze.

‘But you know, once upon a time, I would also have said I didn’t think him capable of loving someone as long and as faithfully as he loves you.’

Harry mulls over that while their orders are finally taken.

‘Loves,’ he says.

‘Yes,’ Marnie replies, so confidently that Harry can’t bring himself to question her any further.

He tries his best not to be, but he’s distracted again throughout the rest of lunch.

-

He’s managed to avoid visiting the Nightingale home ever since the breakup, so he’s not surprised that the mere sight of the door prompts a flood of bittersweet memories. Isaac squirms in his carrier and Harry bounces lightly to distract him.

‘This won’t take long, I promise,’ he whispers.

Harry reaches up to knock, but the door opens before he can touch it, and he’s thrown off-balance when he finds himself in front of a surprised James without any warning. James is dressed to go out, his suit tailored well enough that Harry can see he’s lost weight.

‘Harry,’ James says. His gaze drops to the baby carrier. ‘Isaac.’

‘Hi.’ Harry hesitates, then pushes himself on. ‘Are you going somewhere? I can come back later.’

‘No. I mean, I was going somewhere, but it’s fine. It doesn’t matter. I— Would you like to come in?’

He’s nervous, and that puts Harry more at ease. James leads him inside, gesturing him towards the sofa, but Harry doesn’t sit. Isaac is happier when he’s moving and Harry wants to see what’s changed in the flat, which isn’t much. It still feels familiar.

James is watching Harry, now calm but guarded. He doesn’t say anything even when Harry comes to a stop in front of him.

‘Thank you for the presents,’ Harry says.

He wants to shock James into dropping his mask, but James only nods as if he’d expected to be found out.

‘How did you know?’ he asks.

‘The first one came right after Romeo dropped by and did a terrible job at pretending he was the one giving a baby a giant book of creepy fairy tales.’

James smiles a little. ‘He knew it, too. That’s why everything else was anonymous.’

‘As if I’d have believed they were from him. Those aren’t things you buy for a mate.’

‘Who would you buy them for, then?’

‘For...’ Harry chooses his words carefully. ‘For someone you know very well, who you worry about. Someone you love.’

James’ response is just as measured. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

It’s only Isaac fussing that reminds Harry to breathe. He absently kisses the top of his son’s head, his eyes locked on James.

‘What are you doing, James? You must have had a goal in mind when you started all this.’

‘I think,’ James says slowly, ‘I just want to be in your life again, in whatever capacity you allow.’

Harry is not the same person he was half a year ago, but there are still a hundred reasons to stay away. For him, a friendship with James Nightingale is just as dangerous as anything more intimate. James is embedded in his heart, a part of his soul, and given time, those pieces will spread and consume him all over again.

He misses James, though, more than he’d ever expected to.

‘A friend,’ he tells James. ‘Can you be that for me? I need someone to complain about work with and to listen when I feel like I’m doing everything wrong as a parent. Maybe have a beer with me when I have the time.’

James’ smile is beautiful. ‘Make it wine and I’ll agree to your terms.’

There are risks to everything worth doing in life. Harry’s okay with taking this one.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus:
> 
> James considers the sleek red car on the screen. It’s a beauty, and it would certainly show Harry how much he loves him and appreciates his help with Romeo.
> 
> On the other hand, a car is an ongoing financial commitment that depreciates in value, and Alfa Romeos are hardly known for their reliability.
> 
> He opens a new browser tab and types in a search for warm holiday destinations for the end of the year. He’ll show Harry the world instead.


End file.
